


Finding His Legs

by FlitShadowflame



Series: The Adventures of Pada!Wan Pup in Space [1]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Boys Kissing, First Time Blow Jobs, Force Healing, Frottage, M/M, Master & Padawan Relationship(s), Mild Gore, Padawan Obi-Wan Kenobi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-27
Updated: 2020-06-05
Packaged: 2021-03-03 03:33:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 6
Words: 5,073
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24398080
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FlitShadowflame/pseuds/FlitShadowflame
Summary: Essentially, I've mixed up the Dooku/Jinn lineage to make Obi-Wan the baby of the family. This does have ramifications for the universe as a whole but I probably won't explore them. This series is a porn vehicle with the barest veneer of plot. Tags are for the whole first work, which is complete at six chapters and will be updated regularly (planning to update Tuesdays and Fridays but please give me a little fudge room on that).If you want Obi-Wan slashed with entirely too many clones while he's still a baby-faced padawan (starting at age 14 just fyi), you're welcome. If underage isn't your bag I don't want to hear about it: you've been warned.
Relationships: 212th Attack Battalion & Obi-Wan Kenobi, Obi-Wan Kenobi & Ahsoka Tano, Obi-Wan Kenobi/Original Clone Character(s), Obi-Wan Kenobi/Quinlan Vos
Series: The Adventures of Pada!Wan Pup in Space [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1761757
Comments: 21
Kudos: 251





	1. The Padawan

Obi-Wan Kenobi knew, in the quiet moments, that were it not for the war, he likely would have gone to one Corps or another after his first Master left him behind. He had a temper, he did not tolerate being teased well...and there was so  _ much  _ about him to mock (at least, that’s what Bruck and his cronies said). Everything from the moles on his face to his diminutive height and somewhat sickly constitution, to his aggression in ‘saber practice and his lower-than-average scores in piloting and, and, and.

But when he was sparring, everything felt  _ right _ . He forgot he was too small, too aggressive, too weird for most people. He focused on the moment, and more often than not, he won.

Jedi Knight Ahsoka Tano was young for a peacetime Knight-Master, but things were different, now. She’d barely been past her Trials when the Council started pressuring her to continue what was called the Jinn lineage (with Dooku working with Separatists, no one wanted his name attached to anything in the Temple anymore). She’d resisted for a while, before the war had picked up speed and she’d needed an able aide with Jedi training, not the pompous Senate-selected officers. Her words.

She said his saber forms were what had convinced her, but he’d been brought to her notice for his ability to synthesize and summarize information quickly. His reading speeds were “beyond impressive,” and he wrote well above his peers. She said all that, but he couldn’t help but notice she’d waited until the Jedi Temple was on the verge of sending him to the Corps anyway, almost two months after Geonosis and his Master’s...departure.

“You won’t see much action until you’re at least fifteen,” she’d told him frankly. “I can’t justify taking anyone younger than that into an active warzone.” He’d been fourteen, when he was...somewhere between “selected” and “assigned” as her padawan. They’d remained in the Temple for another week, to arrange things for his continued education on her ship and to settle into a routine of training.

Her firm-sounding ultimatum lasted about four weeks after that.

Four weeks of traveling on the  _ Resilient _ with the 212th and Master Tano, doing correspondence coursework from the Temple, practicing his lightsaber katas as much as he could bear, sparring with Master Tano whenever she gave him the chance. Trying to stay out of the way of the majority of on-duty clones, awkwardly shadowing the incredibly competent and efficient Commander Cody, developing a (hideously obvious) crush on the man in the process, and studying battle reports from all the GAR battalions for his tactics training.

And then: “Padawan,” Master Tano said, eyes warm but her expression tense. “We have a mission.” Their first as a Knight-Padawan pair.

He nodded, settling into a stance very similar to what the clones called “parade rest.” He wasn’t sure why. He didn’t think any of them had ever been in a parade.

Master Tano paced the length of her office twice before turning back to Obi-Wan. “Axxila has just joined the Separatists and taken the Republic-sanctioned former government - as well as their families - into captivity as political prisoners. We are charged with rescuing as many of the officials and imprisoned civilians as possible, as well as bringing them to Coruscant so they can set up a government-in-exile.” She looked at him and said, “I’m sorry I couldn’t keep you from this a little longer.”

“I won’t let you down, Master Tano,” Obi-Wan said.

Master Tano bent down to look him in the eye, which was a bit humiliating, since she wasn’t exactly a giant herself.

“Padawan Kenobi, your number one job is to  _ stay alive _ . But I have faith in you and your abilities. You’ll be with Ghost Company’s scout squadron. I want you to listen to the Sergeant, his name is Blades. You nominally outrank him but you have no battlefield experience to speak of and he knows his unit and their capabilities. You may, of course, offer suggestions, and I’m sure I don’t have to remind you to be polite about them.”

“Understood, Master.” He paused before deciding it was worth it to ask a question. “Is there a specific reason you want me with the scouts?”

She smiled. “Yes. You have remarkable talent with the Unifying Force and if anyone will get an inkling of something going wrong, it should be you. The men also say you’re quite light on your feet and I know you can protect them from blasters. Scouts are not supposed to be seen but there are always going to be missions where things go wrong. You’ve practiced the handsigns the GAR uses?”

“Yes, Master.”

“Good. Remember,  _ stay alive _ .”


	2. The Scout

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Obi-wan goes on his first mission and makes a new friend with the power of head injuries!

Sergeant Blades, it turned out, was named for his tendency to use vibroblades to slit throats of organics and overload powercores of droids. He said as much, even though Obi-Wan didn't actually ask. His squad had three other clones, including two Obi-Wan actually recognized. He nodded to Waxer and Boil and stood off to the side of the clones as they were briefed on their objectives. The third clone turned out to be a private named Discovery, which Obi-Wan hoped was a good omen for a scout team.

Reconnaissance was not a glorious job by any means, but Obi-Wan turned out to be rather good at it. He was quiet, he was small, and his beige tunic and red-blonde hair blended into the dusty, rocky landscape a lot better than the clones’ armor plates.

They’d been working for over two hours before Obi-Wan needed to ignite his lightsaber and bat away a few blaster bolts when they were spotted by a patrol. He stood guard in Soresu while the clone troopers picked off the Separatists one by one from their scant cover.

It took less than thirty seconds, all told, but he felt like he’d run a mile. Waxer pulled him behind cover as well and offered him a canteen of water.

He nodded in thanks and drank.

“The point of cover is so we  _ don’t  _ have baby Jedi casualties,” Blades snapped at him.

Obi-Wan sealed the container and passed it back to Waxer. “The point of having a ‘baby Jedi’ along is so you don’t get massacred by something a Jedi can prevent,” he pointed out. “Deflecting bolts is child’s play with the Force.”

“Sarge, the Commander definitely saved my mustache, and probably my life,” Boil said, wry but not actually kidding. “I saw him connect with a bolt that would’ve killed me.”

“Be more careful,” Blades said severely, but Waxer patted Obi-Wan on the back and they continued without further comment.

They made it to the prison camp shortly after, and the rest of the 212th was not long on their heels. The squad was to stand guard while the battalion cleared the camp and freed the prisoners.

He should have known it was going too well. Two patrols came upon them from different sides, likely coordinating a pincer. The cover was insufficient for five, considering they were  _ surrounded _ . Waxer and Boil dragged him behind a boulder anyway.

“We’ll take care of this one,” Discovery chirped from the next rock over. He fired on the patrol to the East, rising up a little to get a better angle.

“ _ DOWN _ !” Obi-Wan shouted, prompted by the Force a split second before Discovery’s helmet exploded into shrapnel. He crumpled into a heap, bleeding from a head wound. Bleeding  _ heavily  _ from that head wound. Obi-Wan knew, intellectually, that head wounds always bled a lot, but this looked bad, and it was his fault. Waxer had grabbed him on instinct, and was even now telling him he could not leave cover until they were safe, but with any luck, he wouldn’t need to. Their boulder was the biggest, and it wasn’t perfect for this, but there was still a chance.

“Need you to keep them off us,” he said raggedly, “I’m going to pull him.”

“You  _ cannot  _ move - ” Boil snapped out, but Obi-Wan shook his head.

“With the Force. I’ve moved bigger things.” Usually a push, not a pull, but the idea was the same.

He pulled Discovery the ten or so feet he needed to get hands on him, and then hauled him close. His first aid knowledge was basic at best, but he at least could get a look at the wound and keep pressure on it to prevent Discovery from bleeding out.

His fingers trembled as he examined Discovery’s skull by touch as much as sight, cringing at the amount of blood. “Fuck, this is bad.” He closed his eyes and tried to remember everything he’d ever learned about Force healing (which was depressingly little). Clean the wound first, lest you heal it around debris. Don’t try to do too much, or you’ll exhaust yourself and be useless to your patient.

He fished a small medkit from his robe and fumbled out the roll of gauze and snagged the canteen off Discovery’s belt. He tuned out the battle around him for the most part, paying only enough attention to make sure no one else got a surprise hit in on his squad.

Once the wound was moderately cleaner, he pressed the gauze to it, grateful it wasn’t a larger injury. Closing his eyes, he tried to meditate and reach out to the Force. It was challenging, given the noise and disturbances and his own fear, but he focused on the thread of oneness he felt with the universe and tried to introduce it to Discovery, to give him the same kind of peace and strength.

Neither easy nor fast, but he could feel the connection forming, could sense Discovery’s presence growing stronger.

He scarcely breathed until someone gently touched his shoulder and used a thread of the Force to grab his attention. He looked up at Master Tano’s concerned face.

“You’ve done well, Padawan. Rest now. Trauma, the lead medic, is going to take care of Discovery.”

Obi-Wan struggled against the urge to fall asleep at once, shaking his head. Discovery was already on a stretcher, and another clone - Trauma, perhaps? - had carefully added his own hand to the one maintaining pressure on the headwound. Obi-Wan drew his hands back, scrubbing them on the dusty soil to soak up the blood before he wiped them off on the bottom of his robes.

“Come, Padawan.” Master Tano pulled him to his feet and he stumbled a little before regaining his balance. “Do you have much training in Force-healing?”

“I’m afraid not,” Obi-Wan shook his head.

“Ah, the invincibility of youth. Do my heart a favor, Padawan, and don’t go quite that deep in a trance while you’re under fire again.”

“The squad - ”

“The Sergeant and his other men are fine, though they weren’t sure if they could move you and the enemy drew closer than I would have liked before they were able to clear the area. Trauma said Discovery had steady lifesigns but only time will tell if his brain was damaged. And those are notoriously tricky injuries to heal, especially for novices.”

“I just didn’t want him to bleed out if I could do something.”

“And I’m sure you’ll have the gratitude of the troopers for making an attempt, whether it ends up being successful or not. Still, you should stick with first aid until and unless you get more experience with Force-healing. If that’s something you wish to pursue, we can have it added to your courseload?”

“...Yes, Master Tano, I would like that.” He was pretty far ahead in his current classes, he didn’t think adding another would be an issue. “I apologize for losing focus on the mission.”

“No harm done - indeed, you may yet have saved a life. The battalion recovered the political prisoners already and is evacuating them to the  _ Resilient _ . You’re going on the next transport up - no arguments, you look exhausted. I’ll remain to monitor the situation.”

Waxer and Boil were there to help him to the transport. Sarge, they explained, had gone ahead with Discovery. Obi-Wan grunted in protest when they directed him to the med bay once they were on the  _ Resilient _ . “I’m just tired, I can sleep as easily in my own bed.”

“And once Trauma clears you we can help you to it,” Waxer said cheerfully. “Until then, med bay!”

The medics, four of them, were still busy with the surgical droids, shifting from bed to bed as they checked on multiple patients in various states of injury. One split off to greet Boil and Waxer.

“How’s our shiny Jedi?” the medic asked, looking him up and down. “Do Jedi wear robes entirely for the purpose of frustrating an easy exam? Strip so I can check you over, you’ve got blood on you.”

“It’s not mine,” Obi-Wan said, and the medic clicked his tongue.

“I’ll be the judge of that.” Waxer and Boil were already tugging off his robe.

Obi-Wan flushed bright red, but didn’t resist and even removed his own boots and belt.

“Good, just a few bruises,” the medic said once he’d given Obi-Wan a once-over and felt his ribs. “No significant aches?” Obi-Wan shook his head, already pulling his leggings back up. “Alright, why are you here, then?”

“He did some...Force-thingy with Discovery and tired himself out,” Boil explained.

“I can talk,” Obi-Wan grumbled without much heat.

“Exhaustion, then. Should he be under observation?”

“The General didn’t seem to think so, but we figured it’d be best if he came here first.”

“She’d probably know. Still, there’s a few things we can check.” A pinch to check his hydration levels, a thermal scan, two ration bars, and three glasses of water later, he was sent to his quarters to sleep off the rest of his tiredness.

He woke almost twenty hours later, still tired but no longer useless with it.


	3. The Batchmate

The first thing he did, after eating breakfast, was go to the infirmary. The medic from the day before greeted him.

“Sorry, I didn’t catch your name?” Obi-Wan prompted.

“My brothers call me Bones. You’re Commander Kenobi, right?”

“That’s me,” Obi-Wan shrugged. “I was hoping to see if Discovery had improved…”

Bones smiled. “Come see for yourself.”

Discovery was propped up in the bed, talking to Blades. He spotted Obi-Wan and beamed at him. His eyes looked a little unfocused and his head was still bandaged, but he was alert, which was already a vast improvement.

“Commander,” Blades nodded. Discovery gave him a jaunty wave. “Until later,” Blades squeezed Discovery’s shoulder and took his leave.

“Bones says you saved my life,” Discovery said. Obi-Wan shrugged awkwardly, standing where Blades had. “Hey. I’m serious, kid, he said I had a brain bleed they wouldn’t have found in time if it wasn’t artificially slowed.” He patted Obi-Wan’s arm.

Obi-Wan relaxed slightly. “But you’ll be okay now?”

The private patted him again rather than nod - probably didn’t want to move his head too much. “Yeah, kid, I’ll be okay. Should be back to fighting fit in less than a week, just need a new bucket and to avoid concussions for a good while.”

“Good. That’s, that’s good, Discovery. Do you - I can sit with you for a while, if you want?”

“That’d be nice, Commander,” Discovery smiled, settling back on the pillows.

“You can call me Obi-Wan, if you like, Discovery. ‘Commander’ still feels pretty weird.”

“Obi-Wan,” Discovery repeated. “You know, my batchmates call me Disco - I didn’t think what a mouthful ‘Discovery’ would be, when I picked it. You can use that, too. I think saving my life makes you worthy of honorary batchmate status.”

“Really? That’s so sweet. Are any of your batchmates in the 212th?”

“Just you,” Disco smiled, a little sadly. “Most batchmates don’t get to serve together unless they’re developed as a squad. My batch wasn’t; most of the newer batches aren’t. More efficient to train a batch to the same role.”

“You stay in touch, though?”

“Oh, yeah.” Disco tilted his head. “Do Jedi have batchmates? You’re raised communally, right?”

“We’re brought up in what’s called a Créche, split into ‘clans’ of about ten to twenty, grouped by age. So in a sense, yes, the clan is like a batch. All different species, though. My - we call them Créchemates if we were raised together - my closest friends among my Créchemates were Bant Eerin, Garen Muln, and Reeft - a Mon Calamari, human, and Dressellian, respectively.”

“An odd-looking batch, to be sure,” Disco grinned.

“My best friend is a little older than my ‘batch,’ though,” Obi-Wan smiled back. “A Kiffar padawan named Quinlan Vos. He was always kind to me when we were little, so I’m sure I followed him around like a lost akk puppy…”

“I’m pretty sure I’ve seen that routine,” Disco teased. “Little commander-in-training,” he added, making it obvious who he’d spotted Obi-Wan tailing. Obi-Wan blushed.

“Commander Cody is very skilled,” he said, trying not to sound too defensive. “I’ve never been in an army of any kind until now, it makes sense to study my responsibilities and expectations.”

“Obi-Wan, Cody is probably the best commander in the GAR. You couldn’t ask for a better teacher, but don’t feel like you have to live up to him anytime soon - remember we’ve been raised for this our whole lives,” Disco said reasonably. “You’re still working on that training part. Everyone’s gotta start somewhere.”

“Thanks,” Obi-Wan smiled. He squeezed Disco’s hand.

“So what exactly did you do, anyway? After I was out, I mean. No one’s really explained.”

“I’m not surprised - it was Forcehealing, something you have to be very Force Sensitive to manage. I, um. I’d never done it before, either, but I figured you would probably die if I didn’t do  _ something _ so the risk was well worth it.”

“You won’t hear any complaints from me,” Disco chuckled. “If you can save a vod or two with the occasional experiment I’m all for it.”

“Well, it looks like I’ll get some actual training - or reading material, at least - about Force-healing, so hopefully my experiments will be more successful in the future.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tune in later this week for the porn! In the meantime, there's this.


	4. The Miracle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Obi-Wan gets frisky with Private Discovery.

Three days of visiting Discovery in the med bay, chatting with him about anything and everything, had quickly turned him into the closest friend Obi-Wan could claim on the  _ Resilient _ . And, well, Obi-Wan was developing a pattern, when it came to close friends. They danced around it for another three months and an additional brief mission, but the conclusion was probably inevitable.

Kissing someone who’s not Quinlan felt a little weird. Not because he and Quin had made any promises - aside from, “if it’s a good time or something new, tell the other.” More because Obi-Wan hadn’t kissed that many people, and Disco was bigger even than Quin: six feet tall and powerfully built. Disco ended up lifting him almost a foot off the ground and holding him in place with one armored thigh between Obi-Wan’s, leaning him against the inside of the storage closet door.

The kissing was languid and sweet, at first. Obi-Wan nibbled and sucked on Disco’s lips and tongue, and things deepened as they shared breath, until Obi-Wan could barely keep his eyes open and was pawing ineffectively at Disco’s armor.

“Please,” he begged, rutting slightly against Disco’s cuisse.

“Pretty little miracle,” Disco breathed. He unbuckled his codpiece and nudged closer, his cock stiff in his blacks. Obi-Wan brought up his dangling leg to apply the same pressure he was enjoying, and Disco grunted, started moving. They kissed more sloppily then, rutting against each other with abandon.

Pleasure rose in Obi-Wan as he squirmed on the hard armor plate. The frantic, furtive nature of the tryst was almost more thrilling than any particular sensation - and then Disco scraped his teeth over Obi-Wan’s neck and pushed against him  _ hard  _ and Obi-Wan gasped as orgasm struck him all at once. He barely had the wherewithal to keep his thigh up for Disco, who luckily only needed to hump against him for a few more moments before he crowded Obi-Wan against the wall and kissed him deeply.

“You’re a sweet thing, aren’t you?” Disco smiled and kissed Obi-Wan again, then checked the chrono on his vambrace. “Shit, I need to clean up and get some sleep,” he grumbled. “You got anywhere to be, li’l bro?”

“Coursework,” Obi-Wan said, making a face. “But I was just going to do that in my quarters.”

Disco nodded. “I’ll walk you back, then I’d better get going.” He couldn’t seem to stop kissing Obi-Wan, though, and he still hadn’t let him down.

Obi-Wan giggled and prodded the soldier’s chest. “We probably look a mess.”

“You look radiant and kissable.”

“That, too. C’mon, Disco, I’m feeling  _ sticky _ .”

“Well we wouldn’t want  _ that _ .” He lowered Obi-Wan to the ground and latched his codpiece back on with a grimace. “Urgh, sticky is right, though.”


	5. The Pretty Boy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Obi-Wan attempts a blowjob under the guidance of an old friend.

Padawan Quinlan Vos was 17 and well aware of his own attractiveness, which made him occasionally insufferable. But, he’d been looking out for Obi-Wan since they were both in the Créche, and Obi-Wan’s loyalty streak had always been a klick wide. They commed frequently while out and about in the galaxy and met up whenever they were both in the Temple. He knew about Obi-Wan’s crush on Cody almost before Obi-Wan did. He also knew about Obi-Wan’s tryst with Discovery once they were out of hyperspace.

They were...maybe best friends? Obi-Wan had never dared to say it, but he didn’t know anyone better than he knew Quinlan, and he was vaguely aware that Quin’s psychometry - and personality - had estranged most of his chronologically closer age-mates.

“I’m too awesome for them to handle,” was what Quin said about his fellow padawans when Obi-Wan had asked, once, about Quinlan’s age-mates.

Quinlan was also the one who had taught Obi-Wan how to masturbate “properly” last year.

On this particular Temple visit, Obi-Wan had permission from his master to relax for a few days, so he naturally sought out Quinlan for a spar first.

“Done any interesting missions lately?” Obi-Wan asked as they saluted with their lightsabers.

“Master Tholme and I may have infiltrated a gang or two and possibly undermined a few Separatist plots,” Quin laughed. “You know I can’t tell you more than that.”

“I just want to know if you’re having fun!” Obi-Wan grinned back. “It’s weird, being away from the Temple so often.” They exchanged a few casual blows.

“It’s fun - challenging, for sure, and rewarding,” Quinlan agreed. “What about your work with the GAR?”

“You say that like I’ve  _ done  _ any work with the GAR,” Obi-Wan said self-deprecatingly. “Two missions in  _ four months _ . Master Tano wants me sheltered from the war, I think. I’m doing almost as much paperwork as I am katas and spars.”

“And you’re sharp as ever with a ‘saber,” Quinlan said wryly as Obi-Wan forced him back in the salle a few feet. He used his more developed muscles to gain half the lost ground again.

Then Obi-Wan flipped over his head and neatly landed a stinging smack on Quinlan’s ass.

“ _ Hey! _ ” Quinlan laughed, blocking. “No spankings.”

“I’ll stop spanking you when you stop dropping your guard,” Obi-Wan countered, twisting under Quin’s ‘saber and flicking his into Quinlan’s armpit, a definite killing blow.

Quin huffed and they reset. Then a smile covered his face as he offered, “Why don’t we make the next round interesting?”

“How so?” Obi-Wan asked, twirling his lightsaber. Quinlan’s eyes glittered.

“Loser has to give the winner a blowjob.”

Obi-Wan blinked. “What, really?”

“Unless you’re afraid of losing, my dear?”

“You wish,” Obi-Wan laughed. He did win better than half their bouts as a general rule.

“Do you accept the terms?” Quinlan asked formally, though he was still smirking.

“I accept,” Obi-Wan nodded decisively. He was still a bit startled when Quinlan rushed him.

It was a brutal fight, Quinlan using his reach and strength against Obi-Wan’s speed and agility.

A leg sweep Obi-Wan hopped over ended up being his undoing. Quinan  _ grabbed  _ him with his offhand, crushing Obi-Wan to his chest, toppling them both to the ground and pinning him with his weight. His disengaged saber hilt was pressed to Obi-Wan’s ribs, and he could feel the heat of the powered-down hilt's aperture through his robes. A clearly implied kill.

He was breathing heavily through his mouth and Quinlan couldn’t seem to take his eyes off his lips, which just made Obi-Wan blush.

“Where d’you wanna do this?” Quin asked, quirking up an eyebrow and finally looking Obi-Wan in the eyes.

“Not in the  _ salle _ ,” Obi-Wan said, scandalized. And a little tempted. Mostly scandalized, though.

Quinlan beamed and helped him up, and if they were both walking a little stiffly to the quarters Quin shared with Master Tholme...well, they’d just come from a spar.

Luckily, Master Tholme was out. Obi-Wan wasn’t sure he’d be able to string two coherent words together, he was so nervous and aroused.

They were kissing and stripping clumsily the second Quin’s door slid closed.

“Fuck, you’re so  _ pretty _ Obi-Wan,” Quinlan gasped, his hands strong and sure on Obi-Wan’s freckled skin, though he didn’t remove the handwraps that helped mute his psychometry, even if he couldn't read lifeforms like he could objects.

Obi-Wan loosened Quinlan’s belt and sashes and shoved his tunic and undershirt down his arms before sinking to his knees.

“I’ve never done this before,” Obi-Wan admitted, and Quinlan grinned again, shrugging off the opened tunic and shirt.

“I know. Mind your teeth and don’t take too much at once,” Quinlan told him, running his fingers through Obi-Wan’s short ginger fringe.

Obi-Wan revelled in the touch, eyes drifting closed for a brief moment before he reminded himself he had a reason for being down on the floor. He attacked Quin’s leggings and breathed in the scent of him, somewhat intimidated by the sight of Quinlan’s cock fully erect. He’d handled it before, but he didn’t usually plan to  _ swallow  _ it.

“Hey, it’s okay, you don’t have to take it all. Use your hand on the rest,” Quinlan murmured, stroking his hair. Obi-Wan wrapped his hand around the base of Quin’s shaft before hesitantly licking at the head and the precome gathered there. “Yeah, that’s good,” Quinlan groaned, his hand tightening on Obi-Wan’s hair.

Emboldened, Obi-Wan took the crown into his mouth, swirling his tongue around the tip. He took about three inches total, less than half, before he drew back, still sucking. He’d at least seen how this worked, and in theory he knew what would feel good, and Quinlan seemed to be enjoying himself...

Hell,  _ Obi-Wan  _ was enjoying himself. An older boy, suave and handsome, was moaning and groaning at his attentions, and the pull on his scalp tingled pleasantly. He was hard and leaking into his smallclothes already and Quin hadn’t even touched him below the neck.

“You’re doing good, pretty boy,” Quinlan purred, “so good for me. And maybe, someday, for Commander Cody, hmm?”

Obi-Wan grunted, though it came out more as a squeak around Quin’s cock.

“Fuck, yeah,” Quinlan rasped, pressing a little deeper in, making Obi-Wan gag before he pulled Obi-Wan back by the hair only to come on his face. “So  _ good _ , fuck, good boy.”

He barely closed his eyes in time, and somewhere between the tug on his scalp, the heat of the come on his skin, and the words, Obi-Wan came in his smalls. Quinlan was wiping the come off his face, murmuring additional praise, and Obi-Wan shivered in his friend’s arms.

“I got you, baby, you did so good.”

They cuddled in Quin's bed for a while, talking idly about the war, their homework, and Temple gossip. They traded handjobs before Obi-Wan borrowed a clean (too long) pair of leggings and returned to his own quarters, feeling loose-limbed and sated.


	6. The Vod'ika

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You will need Creator's Style turned on.

“Li’l bro!” a voice called out when he reentered the  _ Resilient _ . He smiled at Discovery, who crushed him in a hug.

“It’s only been a tenday, Disco,” he laughed.

“Yeah, but I had  _ drills _ ,” Disco shuddered. “Trust me, I’m glad to have my  back for many, many reasons.”

Obi-Wan frowned. “You don’t have leave?”

“Oh - well. We rotate planetary leave so there’s always someone on the ship,” Disco said ruefully. “And I  _ may  _ have royally karked up, um. The details aren’t important, but suffice to say Commander Cody was not impressed and I’ve run so many suicides I think my legs might fall off if I have to do another any time soon.”

“Ohhhh,” Obi-Wan grimaced in sympathy - he’d seen what the troopers called suicides, and they looked exhausting. Then he remembered what Disco had called him, and that he’d been meaning to ask about. “Wait, does vod’ika mean little brother?” He knew well enough to know the troopers called each other vod, and  _ that  _ meant “brother” by itself.

Disco huffed, looking nervous. “Technically younger brother is koh’vod, but vod’ika is - uhhh, kind of a cutesy way to say ‘brother,’ like ‘bro’ I guess. ‘ika doesn’t  _ exactly  _ mean small or little, but it translates that way in Basic. It’s just an endearment.”

“You were serious about the batchmate thing, huh?” Obi-Wan smiled. He tugged Disco down by the breastplate and kissed his cheek. “Thank you.”

“What for?” Disco asked, blinking. He didn’t straighten up for a surprisingly long moment. When he did, he rested a hand on Obi-Wan’s shoulder.

“For being yourself.”

Discovery didn’t seem to know what to say to that, so he changed the subject with a slight flush of color to his cheeks. He didn’t remove his hand, though.

The more Obi-Wan got to know the troopers, the more he realized his crush was not limited to Cody. The physical attraction he understood - the troopers all looked more or less the same, beneath facial hair and scars and tattoos. But they were also so  _ different  _ from each other, and yet, he liked every brother he met. They were just so...decent. He’d met a lot of people, even Jedi, who didn’t have the basic sense of decency every brother seemed to be decanted with. He wondered if it was something to do with their template, or their training.

He should be clear, though - he liked the troopers of the 212th best. Some of the brothers from other battalions, on the rare occasions when he saw any aside from the 501st, just treated him like a little kid. He supposed it was different, when you fought and bled beside someone.


End file.
